


Material Witness to A Crime

by InsidiousIntent



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes as Thomas Nightingale, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Humor, M/M, Magic, Michael Guerin as Peter Grant, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 02:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/pseuds/InsidiousIntent
Summary: Michael Guerin sometimes wondered if it was him who had gone to grab a coffee that morning instead of Maria, whether his life would be much less dangerous and much less interesting.





	Material Witness to A Crime

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH! I hope this present is a smidge as good as you have been to me, both as a friend and as a collaborator <3
> 
> Here's a tiny present for you, a fusion AU of one of my favorite stories. This was written in less than an hour and is a pretty straightforward retelling of the story of Rivers of London. 
> 
> This is super not beta'ed so any mistakes are mine!

* * *

It started on a cold Tuesday morning in January when a drunk college student decided to take a shortcut through the west porch of St. Paul’s near Covent Garden and tripped over a dead body. In an unusual twist, the body and the head had been neatly separated, immediately sobering the young gentleman who had made the discovery. With enough wits to dial 999, the young man set into motion a chain of events that no one saw coming. 

Michael Guerin sometimes wondered if it was  _ him  _ who had gone to grab a coffee that morning instead of Maria, whether his life would be much less dangerous and much less interesting. He didn’t begrudge Maria for not wanting to speak to him anymore, having returned home to Brightlingsea to be near her mother. 

That cold morning when he and Maria were ordered by their shift commander to leave their warm uncomfortable section housing beds and stand guard at the crime scene. And that was also how Michael Guerin, probationary constable, and a formerly aspiring engineer, came to meet the ghost. 

After an hour of shivering through the frigid morning air on the west side of the cathedral while Maria froze to death on the east side, Michael’s phone rang. It was Maria.

“I’m going for coffee, you want one?”

“You’re a lifesaver, Deluca,” Michael said and watched her cross the street to a small cafe. 

She hadn’t even been gone full five minutes when he noticed someone lurking by the columns of the portico; a short stalky man in a suit. Michael decided to start off the conversation with the trained Metropolitan police greeting. 

“Oi!” Michael yelled, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The figure whirled around and Michael came face to face with a pale haggard looking guy. He was wearing a threadbare suit, a watch fob, and a top hat. Considering it wasn’t even 7am, Michael didn’t think he was one of the street performers. 

The man beckoned him over with an extended arm. “Over here, squire,” he said, “I saw the whole thing. Terrible thing it was.”

Michael approached slowly, keeping one hand on his baton, and the other loose in an overt friendly gesture. Up close the man looked even shabbier, and was barely five feet tall, with a lapel badge that showed a skeleton leaping away; a weirdly goth addition to the otherwise old-fashioned outfit. Michael pulled out his notebook and gestured at the man. 

“May I have your name, sir?” 

“Course you can, squire. The name is Nicholas Wallpenny. But don’t ask me to spell it because I never really got my letters.” 

“Alright, sir. How about you tell me what you saw,” Michael started, careful to apply the lessons drummed into him. Never lead the witness. 

“I saw plenty, squire.”

Michael tried not to let his irritation show. “If you’ve witnessed something, perhaps you can come down and give a statement.” 

“Now that might be a slight problem,” said Nicholas. “Seeing as how I’m dead.” 

Michael, busy trying to scribble the man’s description, looked up sharply. He wasn’t sure he heard correctly, “if you’re worried about your safety, sir…”

“I ain’t worried about anything anymore, squire,” Nicholas Wallpenny gestured with his arms spread out. “On the account of having been dead these last one hundred and fifty years.” 

Michael stared. “If you’re dead, then how come we’re talking?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

“You clearly have a gift, squire. So I don’t mind telling you what happened.” 

***

Friday nights around Covent Garden were probably not the best time to go ghost hunting. Maria’s skepticism even as the details provided by the ghost were verified on CCTV footage of the night by both of them. The prospect of not being able to work on the case pushed Michael to make a decision he never would have made - find and record the ghost of Nicholas Wallpenny. If in the process, his superiors were impressed by his detective skills and recommended him to the Murder team, Michael wasn’t going to complain. 

So this chilly Friday night found him bundled in his warmest jacket, heavy pair of boots, and a thermos filled with coffee. He was aware that was possibly the most absurd plan he’d ever had in his life, but Michael was determined to see this through. It was better than the lifetime of desk duty that otherwise seemed to be in his future. 

After spending a couple hours on the outside table of a small cafe, he made his way over to the church portico where he had been stationed that fateful morning and waited. It was too cold for even the drunks to start a fight, for which Michael was infinitely thankful. A couple drunk college girls hooted at him about his Tinder date not showing up while their friends loudly lamented the fact that  _ all the good looking ones are gay _ . Which is something Michael also thought when he noticed the man watching him from across the other end of the portico. 

The man was about six feet tall, and was wearing a beautifully tailored (probably custom made) suit that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the trim drop of his waist. He looked like he was in his thirties, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth that could probably incite violence. His chocolate brown hair was severely styled, something vintage and formal. It was tough to see in the street light, but the man’s eyes looked light brown, and he had a silver topped cane in one hand. 

When the man started walking closer, Michael suddenly realized what this looked like. If single guy hanging out in corners of Covent Garden didn’t scream street pickup, he didn’t know what else did. He was getting ready to share some excuses and tried to covertly shift so he could pull out his warrant card, when the man came up to him. 

“Hello,” the man said, his voice like smoke on whiskey, accent deeply formal. “What are you up to?”

Michael decided truth had a higher chance of getting rid of this potential John. “I’m ghost hunting,” he said. 

“Interesting,” the man said raising an elegant brow. “Any particular ghost?”

“Nicholas Wallpenny,” I said. 

The man stared for a beat. “What’s your name and address,” he asked. 

Michael almost snorted in relief, this he could work with. “Excuse me?”

The man reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet to show to Michael. “Detective Chief Inspector Alex Manes,” he said. 

Ah. Oh crap. 

“Um, Constable Michael Guerin.”

“Out of Charing Cross nick?” 

“Yes sir,” Michael responded. DCI Manes gave him a strange smile. “Carry on, constable,” he said and then strolled off. 

Michael had no idea what had just happened, but somehow he knew he was going to see DCI Alex Manes again. And soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry about all things malex with me on [Tumblr](https://insidious-intent.tumblr.com/)


End file.
